


Exile

by poetryandtragedy



Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: 15th Century, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Exile, F/M, Family, Forbidden Love, Historical, Kissing at Midnight, Politics, Renaissance Era, Romantic Angst, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance, Song: exile (Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver), royal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetryandtragedy/pseuds/poetryandtragedy
Summary: ❝I'm not your problem anymoreSo who am I offending now?You were my crownNow I'm in exile seein' you out❞
Relationships: Lorenzo "Il Magnifico" de' Medici/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! thank you so much for choosing to read this story. This is my second story on 'Medici'. The first one is called Dynasty which you can check out if you'd like. Like always, I just wanted to say that The Aravena's were not a real Florentine family for as far i know, and Madlyn Aravena is completely a character of fiction. I'd also like to point out that not all facts are going to be 100% historically accurate but I'll try my best to stay true to the show. Constructive Criticism is always appreciated but other than that, Happy reading!

Madlyn Aravena, the stunning raven-haired beauty of Florence, seemed to have it all. A wealthy and powerful family, a good inheritance awaiting her, beauty beyond words, and a union soon to be officialized. But everything falls down when she is faced with the fact that her family has to go into exile, not to return to Florence for 30 years for a stupid mistake her father did. And now, getting the only thing she wanted, the one person she needed, seemed more like an impossible reality.

* * *

They say noble Florentine women must keep their head high in pride, for they come from respectable families and have the responsibility to withhold their familial status. 

At least, that is what I kept repeating to myself as I walked down the streets of the city, with eyes glued to me from every corner of the street. 

If this were to be in different circumstances, I wouldn’t be too bothered by it. After years of facing it, I decided that perverted men remain perverted men, and as long as they didn’t get too close, I’d be fine. I  _ was _ the daughter of Galeazzo Aravena, eyes were to follow just at that.

But today, as I made my way to the Palazzo Medici, I wished to be as far away from that title, and as far away from those eyes as possible. Their attention was least wanted right now.

I walked with my head down, desperately wanting to reach my destination as soon as possible. I placed a hood over my head as I walked. The whispers and murmurs were all perfectly audible to me. 

“Did you hear?” 

“Aravena’s always the usurer”

“Oh, what a tragedy.”

“The Aravena’s, I say, have always been up to no good.” 

Ah, but this was no time to fight back. One must know when to defend, and when to walk past. I wisely did the latter, for if I had not, then I may have lost the control that I have been treading cautiously on. 

Nevertheless, I found myself at the Medici Palazzo before much else could happen. 

I’d become more than familiar with the place, especially this past year. Hurriedly, I walked in to face an anxiety-ridden Lorenzo standing there. His worried and perhaps even confused expression mirrored that of his brother’s beside him.

My heart was pounding. The look on my face had given it away. 

“Is it true?,” Lorenzo edged towards me, his hand finding mine and a look on his face that made me want to curse fate, for it was indeed true. “Your family is to be exiled.”


	2. letters and memories

Three months had passed since me and my family were forced to leave Florence. Yet that memory still stung as if it were yesterday when we heard the news. 

Verona was beautiful, but not like Florence. My heart still ached for the streets I used to wander as a child. But, alas, it would be a long time before we could return. 

Walking over to my desk, I saw another letter was delivered. I inspected it, it was by Lorenzo. We’d kept touch ever since, but only through clandestine meetings once ever so often and letters he wrote in secret. 

It wasn’t the same, and I missed the days when we could meet without the fear of being caught.

My heart didn’t ache for Florence as much as it did for him, for not to be with him was a whole other type of pain. 

He had his duty in Florence, and I could not ask him to risk that for me so often. It seemed that whatever we had between us over the years was now treading on thin waters.

I’ve spent countless nights wondering if it would ever be the same. Perhaps not. 

Light tears streamed down the side of my cheeks as I remembered myself the nights where I would be too giddy to fall asleep, for it was when my union with Lorenzo was just talked about. 

Most girls weren’t as lucky to be wed to the men they wanted to, instead they ended up with old drunken fools, but that was not the case for me. At least not back then. I’m not sure what my future holds for me now, and it scares me.

My wounds are still fresh, and my medicine is miles away in the city I once called home.

I opened up the letter with a heavy heart.

_ My dearest Madlyn, _

_ Florence seemed to have lost it’s light ever since you left, it is not the like without you. Everyday, it seems, my duty gets heavier without meeting you to look forward to. But I hope Verona has been kind to you. This time will pass, I promise _

_ Bianca and Gulliano send their love. Bianca has been melancholy ever since you left, just as we all miss you most much. Father’s health has been declining quite rapidly this past week, yet we all pray for the meetest. I hope all's is brave as well for you and your family as well.  _

__

_ I wrote to you for your luck regarding the jousting competition against Francesco Pazzi. His and Jacopo’s feud is still burning bright against the Medici. Should I am to win, it could only be because of you.  _

_ I shall be without the gates of Verona at midnight. I’ll be waiting for you, my love. Be sure to come there discreetly, last time was a close call. Nevertheless you shall always be in my thoughts.  _

_ Yours dearly,  _

_ Lorenzo _


	3. clandestine meetings

I spent the rest of my evening in anticipation, trying not to be too obvious in front of my parents. If they knew I was meeting with Lorenzo in secret, well, they would go to great lengths to ensure that would not happen again.

My father quite liked Lorenzo back when we were in Florence, he still does and in fact was the one to advise the union, but after the humiliation he faced ingoing to exile, me being caught with Lorenzo at a time like so would be outrageous in the streets. And more gossip running loose, tarnishing the Aravenna’s already dusty reputation would make my father go mad.

But It wasn’t too often when Lorenzo would get a chance to come here. And I was to make the most of it, wasn’t I?

Five minutes before the clock struck midnight, I put on my cloak, lit a candle, and sneaked out of my walls of imprisonment whilst everyone was asleep.

The guards outside opened the door instantly and nodded. They were loyal, that was undoubted, and understood why I had to go. I appreciated it.

Outside, in the slightly chilly Verona night breeze, I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. No respectable woman should be out in the streets, at this time of all, to meet with a man she was not wed to. Yet those were the exact things that made me love the feeling even more. 

Looking over my shoulder once every while, I slowly made my way near the city gates. I tried to steady my breathing. My heart beat getting faster after each step I took. There was the fear of being caught, but then the comfort of being with Lorenzo, and frankly the latter overtook the prior. 

We were no strangers to clandestine meetings under the stars, the greatest loves of all time blossomed under the moonlight did they not?

“Madlyn de’ Aravenna.” I nearly jumped at the dead night silence being broken. The night was dark and unusually cloudy, but I didn’t need my eyes to give the voice an owner. The voice, one i could never mistake, one that was closest to my heart, belonged to Lorenzo de’ Medici, and no soul had the right to deny. 

It was without a moment's hesitation when our arms had flung around one another, as if scared to let go, and our lips connecting for a period of time when time itself did not exist and we no longer had our star-crossed destiny awaiting us.

We were caged, but in one another's arms; nothing less than free birds.


	4. the moonlight

####  4; the moonlight

The greatest loves blossomed under the moonlight. 

Yes, our love was indeed that. You see, a union to have two young people wed is far more different than love. Perhaps, a year or two ago, the names Lorenzo de’ Medici and Madlyn de’ Aravanna had only been said in a sentence together once, and by our fathers of course.

Two of the richest and most prominent families in Florence, a union was bound to take place. But, excluding the occasional glance at a public meeting such as church, I had never taken a particular interest in the older Medici brother. That was until that summer's day when my father had announced that I was of age to be wed, and whoso more suitable for his darling daughter than the Medici?

It was perhaps after that when our feelings blossomed. Like a rose bud gently blooming. Our wedding date had not yet been officalized, but it was safe to say that I had fallen head over heels for the blue-eyed, blonde headed heir that my father had chosen for me.

My sister told me to be grateful, not everyone ended up married to rich men who respected them and had all their teeth. I giggled at that. But Lorenzo did more than respect me, he promised to love me and I did him. 

Life felt like a fairytale. It even was at a point, yet here we are now. Having to sneak meetings to avoid persecution in the dead of the night. Meeting one another in secret once a week at most. 

Lorenzo seemed to have read my mind, sensed my frustration as he could do so easily. Holding my hand in his, he whispered. “This won’t keep us apart.”

Our foreheads touched and I used it as my way of replying that I knew. But I wished so dearly that we weren’t in this mess in the first place. That we didn’t have to pay the dreadful price of separation for something my father had done. 

Oh yes, Galeazzo Aravenna, my father. Being his daughter I could tell you first and foremost that he was a good, god-fearing man and the situation we were put in was not entirely his fault. He wanted the best for his children, and one could not blame him for putting their and their future children’s life first.

Survival always comes first. The Pazzi did him dirty. Were part of a deal and then took away their share. But like I said, I only met Lorenzo rarely, and this was no time to dwell on the past.

Right now all the mattered was me and him. Us under the moonlight and nothing else. 


	5. a garland of trust

Under the moonlight, love can sweep you off your feet. And oh the foolish things love makes you do.

I handed Lorenzo the garland of flowers I had weaved in secret earlier today. “Wear it before your joust, for good luck.” I sighed. “I may not be there in person, but wear this and I shall be with you no matter.”

He touched them slowly, delicately. As if they were a treasure given by me. He smiled when he noticed the Jasmine in them, they were my favorite kind of flower. I knew both of us were thinking back at the same moment; when back at Florence he had my room showered with white jasmines for my 18th birthday. This was before the talk of our union and I nearly laughed out loud remembering my fathers face full of rage once he found out, only relaxing at the sight of them being white; symbolizing purity. 

I always found those kinds of flowers amusing. How their colors could mean so many different things. They’d sort of become sacred for me in the way that they made up for the lack of face to face talking Lorenzo and I could do. 

Every so often, he’d have someone deliver a pink camellia to our house since letters were too risky and most people couldn’t tell the difference between the flowers, pink Camellias are for longing. He’d send me those when he missed me. Every so often I’d get a pink carnation; affection and gratitude. 

In a way, these flowers were our means of communication as life pulled us apart, and I intended to cling on to them.

The ones I wove however were blue; symbolizing trust. My way of telling him that despite how illicit and forbidden this is, I’d still trust Lorenzo with my life. The lost hours of sleep and the threat of being caught were thoughts I put aside whilst I was next to him, it was as if they just didn’t exist for the time being. 

I placed the garland around his neck as his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me dangerously close. He gently took my hand, and kissed my palm.

“I love you.” was all he muttered, and we let the stars and space between us do the rest of the talking.


	6. the year that changed

During these hours, everything felt so still, so unimportant. The world was sleeping, everything was silent. And I loved it. It made me feel that me and Lorenzo were the only two people alive. As if our presence facing each other wasn’t scandalous, it wasn't… forbidden. 

We were now walking down the city-with our hoods up of course-and I could hear Lorenzo’s breath inhale and exhale. We knew our whispers were on the verge on being heard by anyone close, but then again, love makes you do stupid things. 

“So,” I said. “How’s everyone back home?” Trying to start conversation, oh the irony. 

He chuckled softly at it too, and then looked my way with raised eyebrows. Though, I’m not sure whether those were at me trying to talk so casually to him, or the fact that I called it  _ home. _ Yes, It did still hurt. Yes, I wasn’t over it. And yes, Lorenzo knew better than to push it. 

So instead he answered my question. “Yes, things are okay.” He paused. “ Well, If you exclude Giuliano’s excessive drinking, Bianca’s lamenting and father’s deteriorating health, then I presume you could label things as ‘okay’. He sighed. 

I pressed my lips together, “I’m sorry” was all I could get out. Maybe it was this idealistic state of mind I was in that made me think everything in Florence would be perfect compared to this, I was wrong. 

Giuliano was ever the drinker, but Lorenzo had told me that his habits had increased, I suspected a woman was the cause of that, but I wouldn’t know. Bianca’s feelings were understandable-to me at least. You see, I’d been the only person she’d told about her love for Guglielmo. To Lorenzo, it was as incomprehensible as to anyone else. And as for his father, well it was not my place to say.

He held my hand softly in his, though we continued walking. “Don’t be, It’s not your fault.” he paused yet again. “It’s just that things have become...different this past year. Last year, everything was perfect, or as much as could be.”

I knew he didn’t want to add what came after that.  _ “And now look at where we are.” _

A small wave of sadness-or perhaps shame, even guilt may be-passed through his eyes, just enough for me to take notice.  _ We’ll figure it out _ was what he always said. 

It pained me to know how much a year could change things.


End file.
